Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with. He was quiet in his ways, and his habits were regular. It was rare for him to be up after ten at night, and he had invariably breakfasted and gone out before I rose in the morning. Sometimes he spent his day at the chemical laboratory, sometimes in the dissecting-rooms, and occasionally in long walks, which appeared to take him into the lowest portions of the City. Nothing could exceed his energy when the working fit was upon him; but now and again a reaction would seize him, and for days on end he would lie upon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or moving a muscle from morning to night. On these occasions I have noticed such a dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes, that I might have suspected him of being addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperance and cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.
As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my curiosity as to his aims in life, gradually deepened and increased. His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments.

If your heart tells you so, that you should leave me
Don’t try to forget, you and I never met
And before you fly one kiss
You tell me why
You’ve forgotten all the words that you once said

Long as I’ve got you there beside me
Long as you’re there to stand and guide me
The love we share, no one can ever tear apart
Long as I’ve got this life I’m living
Long as it’s you, the love I’m with, then
I’ll keep on callin’ you sweetheart

If my love for you can’t make you happy
Just open the door and you won’t see me anymore
And before you fly one kiss
You tell me why
You’ve forgotten all the words that you once said

Long as I’ve got you there beside me
Long as you’re there to stand and guide me
The love we share, no one can ever tear apart
Long as I’ve got this life I’m living
Long as it’s you, the love I’m with, then
I’ll keep on callin’ you sweetheart

There was once a young rat named Arthur who would never take the trouble to make up his mind. Whenever his friends asked him if he would like to go out with them, he would only answer, ‘I don’t know.’ He wouldn’t say ‘yes’ and he wouldn’t say ‘no’ either. He could never learn to make a choice.
His aunt Helen said to him, ‘No one will ever care for you if you carry on like this. You have no more mind than a blade of grass.’ Arthur looked wise but stupidly said nothing.
One rainy day the rats heard a great noise in the loft where they lived. The pine rafters were all rotten in the middle, and at last one of the joists had given way and fallen to the ground. The walls shook and all the rats’ hair stood on end with fear and horror. ‘This won’t do,’ said the old rat who was chief, ‘I’ll send out scouts to search for a new home.’
Three hours later the seven tired scouts came back and said, ‘We have found a stone house which is just what we wanted; there is room and good food for us all. There is a kindly horse named Nelly, a cow, a calf, and a garden with an elm tree.’ Just then the old rat caught sight of young Arthur. ‘Are you coming with us?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know,’ Arthur sighed. ‘The roof may not come down just yet.’ ‘Well,’ said the old rat angrily, ‘we can’t wait all day for you to make up your mind. Right about face! March!’ And they went straight off.
Arthur stood and watched the other rats hurry away. The idea of an immediate decision was too much for him. ‘I’m going back to my hole for a bit,’ he said to himself dreamily, ‘just to make up my mind.’ That Tuesday night there was a great crash that shook the earth and down came the whole roof. Next day some men rode up and looked at the ruins. One of them moved a board and hidden under it they saw a young rat lying on his side, quite dead, half in and half out of his hole.

Gentlemen do not usually live in cities. At whatever discomfort to themselves and their families they prefer to live in the country and then only in selected parts of it.
I can well remember a conversation with an elderly friend of mine about a mutual acquaintance whom we both agreed was a bounder. Although there are few worse things that one gentleman can say about another, my friend went further, ‘He is not only a bounder,’ he declared, ‘he is also a liar.’ These were strong words indeed. ‘What do you think of this?’ he asked. ‘The fellow told me he had a house in the country and I found out he lived in Surrey.’ It was certainly damning evidence.
The truth is that the Home Counties, with their commuter population, housing development schemes and lack of foxes, are no longer suited to the gentleman’s way of life. It upsets his peace of mind to observe the hardships inflicted upon his neighbours by unheated trains and railway strikes, although he himself is unaffected by such things. He has quite enough to do at home without fooling around in the City with stocks and shares or running companies for ungrateful shareholders. Gentlemen prefer to live out of the way places with names like Hogsnorton-in-the-Wold or Blistering-under-Wychwood and grumble about The Times being a day late.

If you’ve got a problem, I don’t care what it is
If you need a hand, I can assure you this
I can help, I’ve got two strong arms, I can help
It would sure do me good to do you good,
Let me help

It’s a fact that people get lonely — it ain’t nothing new
But a woman like you baby, should never have the blues
Let me help, I’ve got laugh for me, I can help
It would sure do me good to do you good
Let me help

When I go to sleep at night, you’re always a part of my dream
Holding me tight and telling me everything I want to hear

So don’t forget me baby, all you gotta do is call
You know how I feel about you, if I can do anything at all
Let me help
If your child needs a daddy, I can help
It would sure do me good to do you good,
Let me help

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”
Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.
“But it is,” returned she; “for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.”
Mr. Bennet made no answer.
“Do you not want to know who has taken it?” cried his wife impatiently.
“YOU want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.”
This was invitation enough.
“Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week.”
“What is his name?”
“Bingley.”
“Is he married or single?”
“Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!”
“How so? How can it affect them?”
“My dear Mr. Bennet,” replied his wife, “how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.”
“Is that his design in settling here?”

A scene from The Last Samurai
冒頭のセンテンスの “a thousand years ago” で、日本人は “ago” の “a-” を長くのばしてしまう癖があります。要注意ですね。Algren は General American、勝元は General British で発音してみます。↓

The Last Samurai 2.mp3

KATSUMOTO: “This temple was built by my family a thousand years ago. My name is Katsumoto. What is your name? (no answer) Are my words not correct? I will practice my English with you … if you would honor me.”ALGREN: “You kept me alive just to speak English … Then what do you want?”KATSUMOTO: “To know my enemy.”ALGREN: “I’ve seen what you do to your enemies.”KATSUMOTO: “The soldiers in your country do not kill?”ALGREN: “They don’t cut the heads off defeated kneeling men.”KATSUMOTO: “General Hasegawa asked me to help you end his life. A Samurai cannot stand the shame of defeat. I was honored to cut off his head. Many of our customs seem strange to you. The same is true of yours. For example, not to introduce yourself is considered extremely rude, even among enemies.”ALGREN: “Nathan Algren.”KATSUMOTO: “I am honored to meet you. I have enjoyed this conversation in English.”ALGREN: “I have questions.”KATSUMOTO: “I have introduced myself, you have introduced yourself. This is a very good conversation.”ALGREN: “I have questions.”KATSUMOTO: “Questions come later.”ALGREN: “Who was the warrior in the red armor?”KATSUMOTO: “My brother-in-law, Hirotaro.”ALGREN: “And the woman who cares for me?”KATSUMOTO: “My sister, Hirotaro’s wife. Her name is Taka.”ALGREN: “I killed her husband?”KATSUMOTO: “It was a good death.”

I’m sorry now, girl, but I must leave you
There’s something deep inside my soul keeps calling me
The winter wind, girl, will not deceive you
And in your cold and empty bed, you’ll think of me, oh yes
You’ll think of me

You’ll see me coming, you’ll see me going
Don’t ask me why I’m just the kind needs to be free
Just like that outlaw wind keeps on a-blowin’
Yeah, in your cold and empty bed, you’ll think of me, oh yes
You’ll think of me

Now I know you loved me just like I wanted
I know you’d follow me across an endless sea
But, baby, I’ve got a heart that’s haunted
Yeah, in your cold and empty bed, you’ll think of me, oh yes
You’ll think of me

Ah but you should know, girl, that I’ll be crying
Out on that lonely road where not a soul can see
I’ll shed my tears for a love that’s dying
Yeah, in your cold and empty bed, you’ll think of me, oh yes
You’ll think of me

The summer sun, girl, will bring a stranger
And he’ll be better to you than I used to be
And when he takes you into his arms, girl
Well, in your warm and loving bed, you won’t think of me, no, no
You won’t think of me

Then in your warm and loving bed, you won’t think of me, no, no
You won’t think of me